


a future beyond our reach

by izabellwit



Category: Dororo (2019), Dororo (Anime), Dororo (Manga), Dororo - Osamu Tezuka
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Before The Storm, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Doomed to Fail, F/M, Gen, Set during Episode 5, in which mio saves a life and hyakkimaru tries to do the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izabellwit/pseuds/izabellwit
Summary: No matter how hard you try, some battles cannot be won, and some monsters cannot be fought. Hyakkimaru learns this lesson too late.





	a future beyond our reach

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't really sure what I wanted to write for this drabble-- I had way too many ideas! There was just so much to talk about: Hyakkimaru's adjustment to hearing, the ending, Mio... Oh, man, I love Mio. Mostly this fic is just me and Hyakkimaru gushing about Mio, I'll be honest. The moment I saw her I was like, My daughter?? Hello??? I want you to be happy??
> 
> (Though we all know how that's gonna go down,,,,)
> 
> This fic is mostly borne of my own wonderings and headcanons on why Hyakkimaru was _so_ determined to beat that demon _right this instant._ Also, Jukai’s mention of Hyakkimaru’s power being a “strong will to survive” gave me a few ideas. Hyakkimaru is really, really aware of danger… so what does he think, what would he feel, from a town on the brink of war? And how might that affect him?? I think part of the reason Hyakki is so ready to fight in episode five is because he knows there’s something off… and the old priest has just presented him a target. 
> 
> These are the sort of things I was hoping to explore here, ahaha. Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

_ I hate this.  _

The thought echoes in Hyakkimaru’s head, in his mind, in his heart.  _ I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. _ It’s a sulky thought—childish _ ,  _ even, but Hyakkimaru is well within his rights, damn it. He’s allowed this much, he thinks; the sounds are so loud and so annoying that he’s pretty sure  _ anyone _ would complain. Besides. At this point, Hyakkimaru can’t think of anything else to do, so… 

He’s out of options, which means this ‘sound’ thing isn’t going away— and yeah, okay, Hyakkimaru is pretty pissed about it. 

His head lies flat and hard against the mat, but at the very least the combination of his makeshift pillow and the weird… head-dress thing Dororo tied on is helping muffle the sound. Hyakkimaru’s hand is firmly clamped over his other ear. It helps, a bit, but—  he can still  _ hear things,  _ which means it’s not working well enough. 

_ I didn’t  _ ask  _ for this!  _

Hyakkimaru isn’t tired now, not like he was when he first regained the sense of hearing. He’s not even sad. He’s just—angry.  _ Helplessly _ angry, which is the worst kind of anger, because Hyakkimaru doesn’t know what to  _ do _ with it, doesn’t even know how to express it. It’s the sort of anger that makes his throat tight and his teeth grit and his fingers curl. It makes his eyes burn and his temper short—and, you know what? Hyakkimaru hates that too. He hates getting angry. He hates this stupid forest with all it’s stupid noises that make it so he can’t get any stupid sleep because of this goddamn  _ stupid _ sense and it's all—all— 

It’s all just too much, and Hyakkimaru  _ hates it.  _

He didn’t  _ ask  _ for this. He didn’t ask for these noises or their words or this—this! Any of this! He didn’t ask for everything to be so… so…  _ noisy. _

The older soul can suck it. They’ve apparently been hearing all their life; they don’t have the right to tell Hyakkimaru to get over it. Hyakkimaru can adjust. He  _ will  _ adjust. He just… 

He just doesn’t want to, not right now. That’s all. He’s allowed to spend some time upset with this, isn’t he? He was living just fine before. Maybe not like everyone else, but what did that matter? He’d still been fine. He’d been happy. He’d had Jukai and a place to call home. But now, ever since the demons started coming after him—  now, Hyakkimaru doesn’t have Jukai, doesn’t have home, doesn’t even have the familiarity of being himself. His chest hurts. His limbs hurt. His head hurts, and the place behind his eyes kind of aches, and—and he’s  _ tired,  _ because he can’t sleep, the noise is driving him nuts and… 

It’s like a cycle. A vicious, unhelpful cycle. And damn that old soul anyway, Hyakkimaru is going to sulk about it all he likes, thank-you-very-much. 

_ I’ll adjust tomorrow. Or… later. Or just…  _

Not now, Hyakkimaru thinks, and squeezes his eyes shut against another piercing screech from the woods. He just… he doesn’t want to deal with it right now.

God, he’s tired.

It doesn’t help his case at all that Hyakkimaru also simply… can't shake this sense, this  _ anger.  _ This restless, maddening feeling that he’s missed something. More than even the noise, this horrible crawl at the back of his neck is keeping Hyakkimaru wide awake. He can’t put a name to it, can’t figure it out. It’s just…  _ something.  _ Some shift in the air, bloodthirsty and cold, that reminds him of demons but is too distant and wide-spread to belong to them. As if the malice and hostility has bled into the air. It’s tension, drawn like a wire, and something deep in Hyakkimaru is pulling at him, dragging at his mind, whispering:  _ It’s going to snap. Something’s wrong. Everything’s going to—  _

It’s the same little voice that arises whenever demons or ghouls appear, except for once there’s no monster forthcoming. It’s  _ aimless.  _ It makes Hyakkimaru’s already present exhaustion and irritation even worse. 

_ Hate this, hate this, hate this…!  _

Jukai would say he’s sulking, and he’d even be right—  but of course, Jukai isn’t here to say that anymore, so what does Hyakkimaru care?

_ I’m  _ **_tired..._ **

Hyakkimaru turns his face into the sleeping mat, breathing through his teeth. His prosthetic hands press down against his ears hard enough for the pressure to hurt. He thinks the sun has risen—he can feel the warmth on his face, light and lingering. Beside him, the old soul and Dororo have gone quiet, their babble hushed, but he can hear their breathing as loud as if they stood beside him.

Hyakkimaru works his jaw, cringing at the chatters of the woods. The sunlight is welcome on his face, but to his despair, the warmth has apparently brought the rest of the woods to wakefulness too. With every passing second, the noise grows, an endless clamor. Chittering, shrieking, snapping, yelling, and…

And… something else? 

Hyakkimaru pauses, for once listening, breathing through his mouth to limit his own sound. The chattering noises, a rhythmic wheeze he thinks might be Dororo sleeping, the rush of a nearby stream… and a softer, lighter sound, sweet and thin, wavering through the air.

Hyakkimaru stares out blankly in the direction of the distant thrum, his grip loosening without realizing. His hand drops to his side for the first time in two days. The sound—it’s still there, faint but clearly noticeable. He hasn’t imagined it. If he pays attention, if he concentrates, he thinks… 

There. It’s coming from over there.

Hyakkimaru hesitantly rolls up to his feet, faltering a little when his flesh leg protests, stiff from sleep. His skin feels feverishly hot, and for a moment he stumbles, head ringing. There’s a rising heat on the back of his neck. 

Hyakkimaru ignores the ache with stubborn denial, and wanders off hesitantly towards the softer sound, unsure of his ability to pinpoint and locate the noise. To his relief, he seems to be in the right direction—  that strangle melody rising in his ears, as uncomfortably loud as everything else, but still sweet to listen to.

Hyakkimaru continues doggedly towards it, ignoring the older soul calling at his back. He winds absently around the path of a few trees and tries to ignore the other noises—the squalling, the water rush, the whistling wind. Where...?

He steps past another wide stretch of green and pauses. There, through the green—he can see the flicker of a white soul, crouched on their knees. A person. The sound… is it coming from them?

Hyakkimaru stares, trying to focus, and jumps when the sound abruptly cuts. The white fire has turned to him. Oh, damn it—he’s startled them, he must have, they’ve stopped—

The soul vocalizes at him. This sound is just as a soft and just as sweet as the melody that drew him here—but different now, shorter and a little rough, like how Dororo sounds when they babble at him. Speaking?

Hyakkimaru wanders forward, nearly startling right out of his skin when his leg hits the water. He keeps going, ignoring the sting of his wounds and the flush of heat under his skin. He’s startled the new soul, and he didn’t mean to, and maybe if he’s careful enough, precise enough, maybe they’ll understand and that pretty voice will make that softer crooning sound again…

This is when the fever rises, when he collapses. This is when the soul catches him.

This is how Hyakkimaru meets Mio.

Mio, Hyakkimaru is quick to find, is an interesting soul. They’re bright, pretty, flickering. Their soul is  _ always _ flickering—but not like how Dororo’s flickers, always bouncing and jumping about as if they’re unable to keep both feet on the ground. For Mio, it’s quieter, more internal. Like Jukai, in a way. But Mio is even brighter than that. Their soul flares constantly, usually with laughter, a soft sweet sound that kind of hurts but doesn’t grate like most do. Or when they sing—their soul  _ shines _ , then. It enough to make Hyakkimaru dizzy even without the fever. 

Hyakkimaru finds a lot of things to admire about Mio, in those first few days. 

But not all is right with this place. Once the fever fades, and his mind settles, Hyakkimaru is quick to find that out, too. In this place, this village, the wire-thin tension that’s been keeping him awake is stronger than ever, and even Mio, bright though they are, is not unaffected. This, Hyakkimaru learns the hard way— when Mio comes by his side before leaving for the night. They had touched their hand to his forehead, and spoken sweetly, but their soul flickered strangely, then. Quiet and tired and fearful. Sad, maybe. Or perhaps angry.

Hyakkimaru had reached out to them, that odd tension rearing in the back of his mind— but he’d reacted too late, and by the time he’d thought to move, Mio had already gone. 

They had returned the next day as if nothing had happened.

_ I hate this,  _ Hyakkimaru thinks, not for the first time. The thought has lost the heat and anger it carried two days ago, but his chest aches like a bruise. He’s feeling well enough to sit up, now, gathered in a circle with the rest of the souls in this house, and he closes his eyes with a quiet huff through his teeth.

Things are still loud, still grating. But… Hyakkimaru can admit this much, if only to himself. It’s better. It’s better because of Mio. He’s gotten used to their song—that’s what Dororo calls it, the word they use,  _ song _ , and Hyakkimaru likes the sound of that, too—and after that, he’s started to get used to other things, too. Not that Dororo’s repetitive chanting of “gogogogogogo!” every afternoon isn’t horrifically annoying (seriously, Dororo, what are you saying, what does that even  _ mean),  _ but…

The sound doesn’t hurt Hyakkimaru like it used to, even if it’s still a bit too much. That change, however small, is an undeniable relief.

Hyakkimaru closes his eyes and leans over his folded knees, thinking. The rest of the house is speaking, and he tries his best to shut them out. His mind is stuck, cast back to this morning. Sitting on the steps and hearing Mio sing, and watching the way that fearful flicker of their soul faded into a more contended shine.

Mio has helped him—that much, Hyakkimaru knows. They’ve given him medicine and sang for him, have provided Hyakkimaru, the older soul, and Dororo shelter for days instead of just a single night. They have helped Hyakkimaru for no reason at all, asking for nothing in return. It’s  _ kind.  _

It’s a kindness that Mio seems delighted to give them, even, a kindness that makes their soul flare. And… Hyakkimaru likes Mio. He likes the way Mio speaks, the way they sing, the way there’s this thread of…  _ something,  _ warmth or laughter or maybe love, underlying their every word. He likes the way Mio’s soul brightens as they sing, sparking with an inner joy. He likes the way they’ll sometimes reach out and take his hand, folding their fingers over his prosthetics, holding his palm in theirs for seemingly no reason at all.

Mio is different from Dororo. Dororo is young and scrappy and follows at Hyakkimaru’s heels constantly, chattering and moving and  _ being.  _ Dororo is always doing something—and while the trait is a little charming, it’s little exasperating too, a little annoying. Mio is different. They feel more like him, more like Hyakkimaru—older, an equal rather than someone younger to look out for. They’re calm and steady and dependable, constant in their kindness. Hyakkimaru feels as if he could sit with them for hours and find himself content with that. There’s a peace around Mio that is startling, a quiet strength that lets him breathe. A sense of not standing alone.

More than anything else right now, Hyakkimaru wants Mio to be happy. Mio, and all these smaller, shining souls. He wants them to be at peace. He doesn’t want to hear this—their voices strained with worry and fear, souls flickering with remembered grief and a deeper dread.

There is a tension coiled around his throat. A whisper that Jukai once named as survival, a strong will to live.  _ It’s going to snap,  _ that whisper says.  _ It’s all going to crash down over our heads. _

Hyakkimaru breathes past the fear, the reaction, the irritation of his wounds. Language still escapes him, mostly, but now that he’s started listening, he’s also started learning. He’s picking up words faster than he probably should, but supernatural language acquisition or not, he’s  _ learning.  _ He can understand more and more now, can separate the sounds in his head. He gets the gist of what the older soul has told them.

_ There’s a place they can be safe? _

Or, perhaps— the way their souls flicker, all of them. It could be safe, then. It could be, if not for…

This word, Hyakkimaru knows.  _ Demon.  _ The word is new—but the fear in their souls, as they say it, is not.

The tension coils tight in his chest, a vice around his heart. He can’t—  he can’t, he hates this, there’s something  _ wrong.  _ It’s this place. This whole village, and all the lands surrounding it. There’s an awfulness here that makes Hyakkimaru’s head ache, a fear so thick he can literally  _ sense _ it. It’s dangerous here. Dangerous for Hyakkimaru and Dororo, but even more dangerous for Mio and their family, who live here within the walls.

They have found a place to hide, but even that refuge is tainted.

Hyakkimaru curls his fingers, the tension in his shoulders making his prosthetics twitch. He wants Mio to smile. He wants their soul to be settled and content all the time. He doesn’t want them to look as they did upon the stairs, before they realized he was there—tired and worn, something bitter and angry in the twist of their soul. Something that reminds Hyakkimaru of himself, and makes his throat go tight.

Helpless anger, Hyakkimaru knows, is the worst kind. If he could help, in any way, give back to Mio after what they have done for him…

He stands before he can even think to talk himself out of it. He’s walking away, towards the malice, before he lets anyone else try to convince him either. Dororo comes tottling to his heels; Hyakkimaru irritably waves him away. He doesn’t want a lecture, or to be stopped—he wants this fear to go away. He wants this tense voice in the back of his head to shut up. He doesn’t want to falter anymore than he already has.

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe Hyakkimaru can fix this—can get Mio and their family out of this village before whatever fuse is sending Hyakkimaru crazy finally ignites.

His prosthetics twitch, and Hyakkimaru is hyper-aware of the blades lying underneath. He can do this, right? No, of course he can. He  _ has _ to. He’s done it before, done it in worse condition than this… he can fight, and he can win. He can repay Mio’s kindness in the only way he knows how.

When Hyakkimaru reaches the safe place, the old soul at his back, he can feel the demon almost immediately. The malice, the hatred, that burning red, seeping into the air, lingering like ash on his tongue. It’s familiar, and frightening—  almost soothing. This, Hyakkimaru knows. This fear he can face. This monster he can beat.

Hyakkimaru is determined, but his own body doesn’t seem to agree. Even as he assures himself, his wounds sear and ache, and his fever burns bright behind his teeth. For a moment, Hyakkimaru sways on his feet, the stab of pain shocking through him. When he unsheathes his swords, the ache builds into a needle-like sting down his every nerve.

The older soul speaks, their words low and rough with worry.  _ Go back,  _ Hyakkimaru thinks this soul is saying.  _ You should wait. _

But Hyakkimaru doesn’t  _ want _ to wait, and he grits his teeth and pulls himself straight. Mio and the others can’t afford to wait, either. The tension in the air is so taut. But—  it’s not too late, it can’t be, and that means… that means Hyakkimaru can still fix this. He can repay Mio’s kindness. He can get them and the other small souls out of the crossfire. He can fight this demon and in victory he can defeat that quieter evil too. He can make it so that Mio sings without strain every day, that their soul never has that  _ fear-shame-anger _ flicker ever again. Mio has tried so hard to help him—  and now he can try for them.

He can win. There is, Hyakkimaru knows, no other option. He comforts himself with the knowledge. Once he wins this fight, the tension will finally fade. Things will finally settle. He straightens his stance and falls into the fight with hope in his heart.

Everything is going to be okay. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was so close to writing the leg-losing incident. SO CLOSE. But I figured this was worse, so…. Here ya go. One hopeful boy about to hit reality face first. Leg first? Hmm.
> 
> I kind of see Hyakkimaru as a pragmatic optimist. If he wins the fight, it's over, things will be okay. But that kind of attitude only works if there's something to fight... and, only if he wins. (Not to mention the question of whether he's fighting the right thing in the first place.)
> 
> If you have any questions or just want to talk, [my tumblr](http://izaswritings.tumblr.com) is always open!!
> 
> Your thoughts?


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